


The Heart of Camelot

by Clea2011



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Episode: s05e03 The Death Song of Uther Pendragon, M/M, Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 17:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12017961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clea2011/pseuds/Clea2011
Summary: At the end of 'The Death Song of Uther Pendragon' what if Arthur heard the exchange between his father's ghost and Merlin? What would Arthur do?





	The Heart of Camelot

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Canon Fest 2017, an extra scene for 5x03 The Death Song of Uther Pendragon
> 
> Huge thanks to Pelydryn for betaing, and to MK and Kitty for running a fun fest!

“Arthur…” his father had breathed.

Well, perhaps not breathed. Uther had been a ghost, after all. Perhaps it wasn’t even Uther, not really. Uther had never been so cruel, so heartless. Or perhaps he had and Arthur simply romanticised his memories of his father.

He would never know.

But there was something that he did know. And something he needed to find out.

The latch on the door to his room clicked open, and the familiar figure of his servant slipped through the door. “Gwaine said you were looking for me?”

He looked worried, as well he might. Arthur had gone over and over in his head every single word that he’d heard his father’s shade utter. They all made sense, in a horrible sort of way. All except the last ones.

_“Arthur, Merlin has mag…”_

It was something that Arthur had never wanted to acknowledge, that hidden side to his beloved servant. But Merlin had shown Uther’s shade what he was while he thought Arthur had been unconscious. Arthur had revived in time to hear a confession, a boast even. Merlin had magic. But it was all for Arthur. He still had no doubt that Merlin was his loyal and devoted servant.

How could Arthur condemn Merlin now, when he’d used magic himself to summon and then drive away his father’s ghost? That would be hypocrisy in the extreme. He would be as bad as his father.

“Yes. It’s strange, because you’re usually underfoot all the time. It was almost as if you were avoiding me.”

There was that look Merlin got when he was guilty of something and been found out. Also strange when Arthur knew how very good Merlin was at hiding big secrets. It was the little secrets such as pretending he wasn’t avoiding Arthur that he failed at.

Merlin dropped his gaze. “I’ve been busy.”

“Yes.  Well I suppose there’s been a lot to clear up,” Arthur allowed.  “My father always liked to make his presence felt. But there are lower-ranked servants who could do that.”

“I wanted to help. It was our fault, what happened.”

“Our fault?” Arthur asked. He could see how he was to blame, but not Merlin.

Merlin was still looking down, fidgeting awkwardly. “We brought your father back. We should never have used the horn.”

‘We’ again. But it hadn’t been Merlin. It had been Arthur, and Arthur knew it.

“You tried to talk me out of it as I recall,” he reminded Merlin.  “So don’t blame yourself. This time it’s entirely my fault. So, you’ve been avoiding me.”

“No, I was helping clear up, like I said.”

That was really unconvincing. It was made worse by the way that Merlin wouldn’t meet his gaze either.  So Arthur pressed on with his questioning.   

“I thought perhaps it was because of the magic.”

Merlin’s head jerked up, shocked. Arthur watched him school his features back into something more innocent-looking.

“The… magic?”

He sounded a little scared. But surely he couldn’t be scared of Arthur? Whatever Arthur thought of magic, Merlin was his constant companion. His friend. And there was what Merlin had said to the dead king. Merlin had _boasted_ to him, taunted him.

“Yes. The magic.”

Merlin had grown pale. His mouth had opened, but no sound had come out. Actually, for Merlin, that was quite unusual. But Arthur didn’t savour the moment.

“I thought perhaps you were offended with me for using magic to speak to my father?”

“Oh… no, no, not at all.”

The relief was almost palpable, coming off him in waves. Arthur felt guilty for making Merlin so uncomfortable, but he wanted Merlin to trust him with his secret. They could discuss it, share it, talk about how they could change the world for the better with it. Merlin just had to say the word.

“I thought you might be disappointed in me for using it. Or think I was evil?”

“Never!” Merlin moved nearer, closing the awkward distance that he’d maintained since entering the room. “Magic is only evil if the person doing it is evil. What you did was perfectly understandable. You only wanted reassurance from your father. I think I would do the same.”

“Yes, I suppose you would,” Arthur said a little bitterly. “Do you think I’m a hypocrite, Merlin? Ruling a kingdom where magic is banned and yet carrying it out myself?”

“I…” Merlin seemed at a loss for words. He was visibly floundering, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times before he finally found something to say. “It’s difficult.”

Arthur pressed on, unwilling to give up. “Perhaps I should lift the ban? Change it so that if magic is used for evil, then it’s punishable just like any other evil deed would be? But the new laws would allow healing magic or anything used to help others. What do you think?”

Merlin stared at him for a moment, then nodded. “It’s a good idea. I think it would help bring about peace. The druids would support you.”

“Yes. Their leader, this Emrys they talk about…”

“He’s not their leader.”

That was far too quick. But then, Merlin would know all about Emrys. Arthur recalled lying there, his head throbbing fit to burst, while Merlin and his father fought. He’d wanted to get up and confront him but knew he’d get more information by just pretending to sleep. And then following them afterwards.

“If I did this, then I’d need a magical advisor. Someone who understands but has goodness in their heart. Perhaps this Emrys character would be suitable? Do you know who he is?”

Merlin paused, then shook his head, tight-lipped. He was looking down at the floor again. Anywhere but at Arthur.

“That’s a shame. I’d need someone I could trust completely, Merlin. Someone…” He wanted to say ‘Someone right at the heart of Camelot’ but that would give away the fact that he knew. And it was essential that Merlin told him rather than Arthur simply finding out. Arthur needed to know, once and for all, that he had Merlin’s complete trust. “Someone loyal,” was all he said.

“Sorcerers have been burned at the stake,” Merlin ventured. “Anyone with magic would be afraid to come forward.”

“During my reign? I don’t think so. We’ve had a couple of executions where a sorcerer has committed a crime, but that would be the same if they’d killed with any other weapon. I’m not my father.”

Merlin gave him a long, appraising look. He seemed troubled, and Arthur could imagine why. Probably wrestling with himself.

“That’s true, isn’t it?” Arthur pushed. “About the executions? I didn’t do it because they were sorcerers. I did it because they’d committed a crime.”

“Yes. You’re a far better king than your father, Arthur. Like I’ve told you so many times.”

“And you trust me?”

Merlin gazed at him, wide-eyed and uncertain. Arthur hated to see that emotion in his friend’s eyes when it was directed at him.

“Yes.”

 _Then trust me with your secret_ , Arthur wanted to say. He waited, but Merlin just ducked his head and moved past him, going to pick up a goblet from Arthur’s desk.

“I should get you some fresh wine,” Merlin told him. “You probably need it after today. Some food too, you’re probably hungry.”

“Just the wine,” Arthur replied. He felt sick to his stomach at Merlin’s lack of trust. Wine would be good. He could drink the lot, pass out and forget the day had happened. Or try to.

“Um… I’ll just go and fetch that then,” Merlin said. He went over to the door, opened it and then stood there as if he still wanted to do or say something more.

Arthur waited. “Was there something else?” he asked. He really, really wanted there to be something else. Some sign that Merlin trusted Arthur as much as Arthur trusted Merlin.

But Merlin shook his head, managed a small smile, then left.

The door closed behind Merlin, and Arthur released the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. So Merlin didn’t believe in him enough to gift him with the truth, even now. After all they’d been through together. It hurt, more than anything. More, even, than having to send his father back to the realms of the dead.

For the second time that day, a single tear made its way down Arthur’s face. He brushed it away angrily, furious at himself for getting so upset. Another thing his father would have been disappointed in. Tears were weakness. Especially ones shed over a servant. But Merlin was so much more to Arthur than just a servant.

Of course Merlin didn’t trust him after seeing what his father did to sorcerers over the years. Arthur had hoped that they were close enough for it not to matter, but obviously he was wrong. He would just have to wait and hope that the trust would come. In the meantime he had a kingdom to run. He sat down at his desk and started to look through the scrolls that were awaiting his attention. It was impossible to concentrate on any of them. Merlin’s lack of trust was all he could think of.

There was a light tap on the door.

“Enter,” he called.

The door didn’t open. There was another light tap. Typical that Merlin wouldn’t be around to help when needed. With a sigh Arthur got up, walked across the room and flung open the door.

“I said enter…” he began, but the words died on his lips when he saw what was waiting for him on the other side.

Merlin was standing there, eyes wide and uncertain, hands outstretched as if offering Arthur a gift. Perhaps he was. Floating above his cupped palms was a single, beautiful, golden, shining dragon made of flames. Made of magic. Made of love.

“I trust you.”

\----------


End file.
